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It was truly surprising to Dazai how things changed. He often found himself noticing how moss grew over a tree in the park near his dorm, or a new coffee shop opened, then closed and was replaced by another. After a while, he didn’t even notice these little novelties anymore, they simply faded into the static background of his life. Anything could become commonplace if given enough time, of that much he was convinced, even things that had once seemed new and shocking.
That was precisely how Dazai felt about the situation that he was in right now. If he had been told a month ago that he would be out getting drinks with Chuuya, and that Chuuya had come along willingly in fact, he wouldn’t have believed it. The notion of Chuuya being willing to spend time with him outside of work and the slow rekindling of their partnership that came with it hadn’t faded completely into being a mundane thought for him yet. That would still take some time, but they were getting there. They laughed with each other instead of at each other, and swapped anecdotes like they really were just old pals catching up. For Dazai, who was never expecting to even have a cordial relationship with Chuuya, especially after his defection, it felt a little bit like a miracle.
On that particular night, Dazai couldn’t deny that he was more than a little tipsy. His alcohol tolerance was much stronger than Chuuya’s, but eight glasses of whiskey was enough to get even him buzzed.
Currently, Dazai was occupying himself with one of his favorite hobbies (though he would admit it to no one), admiring Chuuya. Chuuya had been drunk since at least three glasses ago, and it brought a flush to his cheeks that highlighted his eyes and his freckles in a way that made him look magnetic, impossible for Dazai to pull his gaze from for even a single second. There was a time when Dazai had every freckle memorized, and had even created his own constellations using the little brown specks on his partner’s face. He could tell there have been some new additions to the pattern over the years, and he couldn’t wait to memorize them all again, if he was given the chance.
“You should leave the mafia,” Dazai said thoughtlessly, all of his brain power devoted to staring at Chuuya instead of considering his words.
Chuuya laughed and it made him look even more carefree, showing off his sharp canines and the freckled, collared expanse of his throat as he tipped his head back.
“No, I mean it,” Dazai urged, leaning in closer. “You should. The agency could use you, we could be a team again, y'know?"
It was like Dazai had pulled some kind of plug in Chuuya’s body. He stopped laughing, stopped moving, stopped doing anything but staring at Dazai with unblinking eyes. He was still as a statue for a few seconds, unnatural for someone usually bubbling over with energy like him. Dazai was starting to wonder if Chuuya was too drunk to even recognize him when Chuuya’s lip began to wobble dangerously.
Dazai felt like he had been dunked in ice water. He didn’t think that saying something so simple, so mindless, would activate sad drunk Chuuya. Sad drunk Chuuya was definitely Dazai’s least favorite of Chuuya’s drunken moods, shortly followed by horrible jokes drunk Chuuya.
“But I thought…” Chuuya’s voice wavered, making the cool anxious tingle under Dazai’s skin stronger, warning him that he had fucked up. “I thought you didn’t want me to. I thought I wasn’t…wasn’t good enough to go with you.”
The cold tendrils sliding down Dazai’s back spread further down his limbs, making his fingers and toes feel numb with shock as he gaped at Chuuya, completely unsure how to fix the situation he had landed the two of them in. He felt none of the pleasant buzz from the whiskey that he had felt only moments before, Chuuya’s words sobering him up quickly and completely.
“I wasn’t meant for the light, I know that,” Chuuya sniffled, taking another long swig of his wine, looking quite peeved when he realized that he had finished the glass. He waved the bartender over and Dazai waved the woman away at the same moment, making Chuuya look even more irritated.
“Let’s get you home, slug,” Dazai said placatingly.
Maybe if he could just distract Chuuya with a concrete goal then he would forget about his existential crisis and stop being sad drunk Chuuya. At this rate Dazai would accept angry drunk Chuuya or even horrible jokes drunk Chuuya with open fucking arms. He might even jump for joy if Chuuya broke his nose as long as it meant he wasn’t stuck dealing with this anymore.
Reluctantly, Chuuya nodded and stood up, swaying on his feet. He started tipping dangerously, tried to catch himself using his ability. He overcorrected and almost sent himself flying straight through the ceiling before Dazai managed to catch him by the ankle. Chuuya shrieked as his ability was nullified and he crashed back towards the ground, but Dazai caught him easily and settled him back on his feet, making sure Chuuya was leaning on him for support.
“Careful there, slug,” Dazai teased gently, trying to tentatively test the waters of Chuuya’s unpredictable mood.
Chuuya just shook his head and leaned further against Dazai’s shoulder with a frown. For once, Dazai was left to be the responsible one and made sure their bill was paid and they both had all their belongings before they left. (He couldn’t help slipping one of Chuuya’s keychains off of his keys and into his own pocket. It was an easy excuse to see Chuuya again and piss him off when he wasn’t drunk and emotional, sue him.)
They started out walking step and step down the narrow sidewalk and made it approximately three steps towards Chuuya’s penthouse before Chuuya stopped abruptly and almost made Dazai slam face first into a lamp post. Of course that would be what he got for trying to be a gentleman and walking on the side closer to the road.
“Aren’t you going to carry me?” Chuuya pouted up at him, apparently blissfully unaware of the serious injury he almost just caused.
Dazai sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, smiling down at Chuuya instead. It was a pretty adorable sight, Dazai had to admit, Chuuya’s little pout and pink round cheeks. The whole image and the way his heart wanted to pound out of his chest made Dazai feel horribly smitten and he scolded himself for it.
“Of course I’ll carry you,” Dazai agreed cheerfully. “If we go at a Chibi snail’s pace, it’ll be at least autumn by the time we get to your place, if not Christmas time. Can you at least climb on my back without falling on your face?”
Chuuya shook his head with a frown, his arms reaching up and wrapping around behind Dazai’s neck. The slug pulled Dazai down with more force than he probably intended, making Dazai grunt as he was forcefully bent over to an uncomfortable degree (and he almost hit his head on the pole again).
“Like this,” Chuuya explained, and Dazai was expecting him to mean that Dazai was supposed to bring him back to his penthouse in a princess carry until Chuuya jumped and wrapped his legs around Dazai’s waist so he was curled around him like a human koala.
Dazai almost hit his head on the same light pole again (damn these narrow sidewalks and any hopes he had of being a gentleman), then almost stumbled into the road, but he managed to get a solid grip on Chuuya’s thighs and stop them both from toppling over. God, Chuuya was so going to kill him tomorrow if he had any recollection of being carried through the streets like a child. The good news was, the chances of him remembering any of the events of the night since his third glass of wine were extremely low given what Dazai knew of Chuuya’s extensive list of chaotic tales of being black out drunk.
Dazai started to walk them towards Chuuya’s apartment, while Chuuya seemed intent on burying his nose into Dazai’s shoulder. Under different circumstances Dazai wouldn’t have hesitated to tease Chuuya for sniffing around like a dog, but the sound of Chuuya’s genuinely pained sniffles and the death grip he had on Dazai with his arms and legs made everything a little less funny.
“What’s wrong, slug?” Dazai coaxed, squeezing with his hands on Chuuya’s thighs.
Chuuya shook his head against Dazai’s shoulder and Dazai didn’t think he was going to get anything out of his partner until Chuuya muttered wetly, “I don’t hate you, y'know."
Dazai tried not to let his posture stiffen enough that Chuuya would be able to feel it. The two of them had always been very careful to maintain an illusion of rivalry and mutual dislike over the course of their relationship, roles in a mutually destructive play that they had been keeping up for nearly a decade by that point. Dazai understood that on some level their supposed hatred of each other had been more about appearances and protecting themselves than a reflection of their true feelings, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for the illusion to be completely shattered, and he knew with certainty that sober Chuuya wouldn’t be either.
“Chuu,” he started, making sure he kept his voice soft, intent on steering the conversation elsewhere.
“I know,” Chuuya interrupted, clinging to him tighter, nearly choking Dazai with the force of his grip. “I know that I’m not very nice to you, but I can’t help it. You make me mad on purpose.”
“Someone who makes you mad on purpose seems like quite the smarmy bastard, slug,” Dazai relaxed a little. This seemed to be turning into Chuuya’s usual drunken ramblings, which Dazai had plenty of experience tuning out or spurring on depending on his mood. “Especially since I do it on purpose and I love it. I think it’s fun. You really don’t hate a guy who does things like that? Maybe you should get some better standards.”
“Yeah,” Chuuya said regretfully, his breath hot against Dazai’s neck even through the barrier of his bandages. “But I still do like you sometimes. And I miss when you would come over and play video games with me, or when I would be hurt after corruption and you would help me.”
“I’m sure you have much better people who can do those things for you now, Chibi,” Dazai paid Chuuya’s words little mind, assuming he was just speaking out of his ass, which turned out to be a mistake on his part.
“Like who?” Chuuya pulled back from Dazai’s shoulder and suddenly Dazai’s entire view was completely consumed by Chuuya. The moonlight illuminated him from behind and made him look otherworldly, like an angel or a god, yet his wet eyes and deep frown made it clear that he was just a man. A very drunk, moody, nearly heartbroken looking man.
“Who’s better?” Chuuya reiterated, tugging on the collar of Dazai’s shirt. “I didn’t ask for better. I’ve never even asked for a single good fucking thing in…in my whole life.”
“But you deserve better,” Dazai patted Chuuya’s cheek and guided his head out of the way so they could keep walking. This whole night was becoming a lot more vulnerable than Dazai intended and he was very much looking to being done with it as soon as possible before Chuuya dropped any more emotional bombs on the conversation that Dazai didn’t know how to handle.
“But I don’t want it,” Chuuya complained like a child, yanking on Dazai’s coat back and forth hard enough to make him stumble. “I want you, Osamu, you fucking…fucking asshole idiot.”
“Chuuya,” Dazai’s tone became serious and he gripped Chuuya’s jaw to keep his eyes on him, his heart stinging in his chest. “You are so drunk right now you have no idea what you’re saying. Stay quiet or I’m going to leave you here and you can get home by yourself.”
Chuuya’s lip wobbled again, but he seemed to take Dazai’s threat seriously and buried his face against Dazai’s shirt, using it to muffle his sobs as Dazai continued walking again. The trip from the bar to Chuuya’s apartment had never felt this long.
In all honesty, Dazai did feel bad. There would always be a part of him that was protective over Chuuya and hated to see him in any kind of real pain (annoyed or irritated was a totally separate category of emotions in his mind, those he was more than happy to cause as much of as possible). However, Dazai was also a rational man and was intimately familiar with Chuuya’s drunken episodes. He would say emotional, grandiose things to Dazai all the time when they were teenagers. He would confess his deepest feelings, act like Dazai was the most important person to him in the entire world, and then the next day all of it would be forgotten and Chuuya would be back to treating him like gum on the bottom of his shoe.
Given Chuuya’s life now, where he was rich and successful and popular at work, Dazai should really be even less than gum that to him by now, less than a stain on the wall or a crack in a perfectly good piece of china. Dazai couldn’t think of a single good thing he had ever done to warrant Chuuya having any positive feelings towards him at all. The main cards that he had dealt to Chuuya had always been life altering, devastating loss and abandonment, nothing else. Dazai was beyond lucky that he got to have a sweet little slice of Chuuya on nights they went drinking. He had gotten greedy earlier, blurting out nonsense about Chuuya leaving the Mafia. Now the universe was punishing him for it just like it always did when Dazai tried to possess anything he wanted in any real sense.
It was impressive that Chuuya actually did remain quiet for the ten minutes it took to get to his apartment.
“Are you feeling better now?” Dazai asked as he stepped into the elevator to take them up to Chuuya’s penthouse.
Chuuya nodded halfheartedly, but his body language was still heavy and dejected and he was holding onto Dazai like someone was going to crawl out of the walls and snatch him away. His nails were digging into Dazai’s back even through all the layers of gloves and clothing, but Dazai didn’t actually mind much. He knew he would be looking at the scratches and indents left over in the mirror later and pretending he didn’t want to keep them permanently, if they were the only thing of Chuuya’s that he got to keep.
Dazai didn’t make Chuuya let go until they made it to the bedroom.
“All right, bedtime now,” Dazai said, setting Chuuya on the floor but keeping a hand on him to make sure Chuuya didn’t accidentally activate his ability. They certainly didn’t need a repeat of the incident at the bar. “You’re going to kill me tomorrow if I don’t get you out of your day clothes.”
Still moving at a sluggish pace (fitting for him), Chuuya did strip and manage to climb into bed in just his boxers. The crying on the walk over must have worn him out, because his eyes were puffy and half lidded as he rolled over to face Dazai.
“Night, slug,” Dazai waved, heading out of the room and pretending not to notice the way Chuuya was still reaching out for him.
A heavy weight of guilt settled in Dazai’s chest that he didn’t know what to do with, threatening to steal the air from his lungs with how heavy it sat. Getting his partners a glass of water and a painkiller for the morning wouldn’t help his existential self loathing much, but decided that he was going to do it anyway.
Chuuya usually fell asleep quickly when he had been drinking, so Dazai entered the bedroom quietly when he came to set his little offerings on Chuuya’s nightstand. He was tempted to rearrange all of Chuuya’s art on the walls or steal all but one of his forks, but the night felt far too heavy and gloomy for his usual shenanigans. Going home and drinking himself to sleep sounded much more appealing.
“Dazai,” Chuuya said quietly, and Dazai glanced at him, surprised to find that Chuuya was talking in his sleep. He must have been really wasted.
“Where did you go?” Chuuya asked softly, brow furrowed and eyes fluttering under his lids. Dazai knew he should go, his limbs tensed like he was facing down a dangerous threat, but some stronger force was keeping him rooted to the floor. “Boss said you left, but you wouldn’t, right? Why couldn’t I come with you? Stupid bastard, leaving all that work…for me…”
So he was still on about that, huh? Given that it had been four years since Dazai had defected and Chuuya had celebrated when Dazai was finally out of his life, Dazai didn’t see it as likely that Chuuya actually meant any of what he was saying. Dazai wasn’t the kind of person that warranted that kind of dedication or loyalty, even if Chuuya’s natural tendency towards those things might make him think that Dazai was worthy of them.
Dazai knew that he had long overstayed his welcome. The bottles of sake waiting for him at home were getting more tantalizing by the second. Still…there was something in his heart that felt tethered to Chuuya. If he drifted too far, he was afraid he was going to snap the invisible string that had kept them connected across oceans, across time and across the ever deepening emotional chasms between them, leaving himself even emptier than before. Maybe he was less sober than he thought.
Whatever the reason, be it drink or destiny, Dazai didn’t drift far. He made it onto Chuuya’s couch, the gaudy cushions too soft for their own good and covered in the scent of Chuuya’s pricey cologne. Even if Dazai liked to complain about the overpowering smell, it was comforting in its own way. Despite his frequent episodes of insomnia, Dazai passed out almost as soon as his head hit the cushion.
When Dazai’s eyes next blinked open, he was met with heterochromatic irises staring back at him. Dazai was fully awake in an instant, and very much expecting to meet his death. It had been years since he had slept on Chuuya’s couch, and hungover Chuuya was usually even bitchier than regular Chuuya. If there was an hourglass to represent Dazai’s remaining time on the Earth, he had a feeling the last grains were slipping down to the bottom right at that very moment.
A moment passed, then another, and Chuuya didn’t kill Dazai or even try to get him to leave. There weren’t any traces of tension or anger in his frame either, just lingering sleepiness that made him look much less intimidating than usual. He was only wearing his boxers and a big shirt, which made him look much more adorable than Dazai would ever admit out loud.
“You want breakfast?” Chuuya asked, his voice still rough from sleep.
Actually, Dazai didn’t usually eat anything until at least four in the afternoon, preferring to drink his weight in sake everyday to make up for it, but the hourglass counting down his remaining life still felt too precariously balanced for him to say no. “Okay.”
Chuuya nodded and wandered off to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Dazai watched him go, staring after him for at least a full minute, then got up and followed him.
“Fuck it, I don’t want to make anything,” Chuuya said while yawning, not even looking to see if Dazai was there. “Let’s order something.”
“I can go get something,” Dazai offered. It was genius, really. The perfect opportunity to get out of Chuuya’s apartment without having to make a big deal of it, and if Dazai left and didn’t come back, it would cement to Chuuya that Dazai was still an unreliable and selfish bastard who wasn’t worthy of any of the sentiment he had poured out the night before. A truly flawless plan.
“Nah,” Chuuya shut down all of Dazai’s plotting with one syllable, stretching his arms over his head as he turned to face Dazai. “I want something from that place that’s on the other side of the city and you don’t have a car. They’d be fuckin’ closed by the time you waked all the way over there.”
Dazai rolled his eyes. “You’re so picky and annoying.”
“You’re so picky and annoying,” Chuuya retorted, rolling his eyes in return. He grabbed his phone off the counter and presumably started browsing food delivery apps.
Dazai took that as his cue to leave. Yeah, Chuuya had offered him breakfast but that didn’t mean he, like, actually wanted Dazai to stay for breakfast right? That wasn’t something that they did. Dazai had tried to make it a subtle exit, but apparently Chuuya wasn’t going to give him that choice. So, obvious exit it was.
Unfortunately, he had barely twitched in the direction of the door before Chuuya was looking up at him with sharp eyes. Somehow, he must have read Dazai’s intentions in his eyes because his face twisted into something fragile. Dazai wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t used to Chuuya showing the ways Dazai hurt him so easily.
Chuuya’s eyes dropped back to his phone and his voice came out flat. “Just go.”
Even though scenarios like this had happened so often between them that they each had their own lines practically laid out for them, Dazai somehow felt like he had messed up his part in their usual song and dance by following the script he thought they were both reading from.
“Chuuya…” he tried uncertainly.
Chuuya’s grip on his phone turned his knuckles white, his eyes refusing to meet Dazai’s again. “I said go. You don’t even want to be here, so go.”
How was Dazai meant to explain that this wasn’t about his wants at all? It was about…about making things right, and…and respecting what was right for Chuuya and not letting himself get too selfish. About understanding his place.
Noticing Dazai’s hesitation, Chuuya finally looked up with a glare. “What?”
“It’s not that,” Dazai blurted before he could stop himself. Godammit, what was wrong with him? He should have just accepted the opening Chuuya gave him and left.
Chuuya set his phone back on the counter. He probably would have looked a lot more intimidating if he wasn’t still wearing his sleep clothes and his hair wasn’t sticking up in million directions, curls mused and matted against his scalp.
“Then what is it, Dazai?” he demanded irritably. “Enlighten me.”
Dazai swallowed. There were times in his life that he felt very much like he was standing at the yawning edge of a cliff. Whether he chose to back away from the edge or chose to jump into the dark, he had a sense his life would be permanently altered. The choice to speak, or to remain silent. Frankly, both seemed like horrible options as far as his emotions were concerned. But Dazai was a man of probability, and there was only one option that had even marginal chances of making anything better for him or Chuuya in this situation.
“If you weren’t in the Mafia, what do you think you would do?”
Dazai knew that it was a major topic change but he hoped Chuuya would give him the benefit of the doubt.
Chuuya sighed and gave Dazai a suspicious look. He seemed to debate answering, but he had never been able to resist Dazai for long and they both knew it. “I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it before.”
“You haven’t?” Dazai genuinely wasn’t expecting that answer, but maybe that showed how genuinely deep in the dark Chuuya felt. Had Dazai ever considered a life outside of the Mafia before Odasaku opened that door for him? He didn’t think he had.
Reorienting himself to the conversation at hand, Dazai continued, “Well, as much as I hate you say this, you are quite sharp. I always trust you to see threats and solve the puzzles I leave behind about my plans. You could be quite a detective.”
Chuuya seemed quite caught off guard, whether by Dazai’s openness or his lack of antagonism. “Okay, and?”
“And…” This was going to be the difficult part. The personal part. The part where Dazai for once had no idea how one of his plans was going to turn out…and he was surprised to find he was more than a little anxious about that fact. “Well, Kunikida does his best, but he’s getting really fed up with me, and he could do a lot more for the Agency if he had a halfway decent partner. But of course, that would leave me on my own and apparently we have a lot of stipulations in the handbook against people working alone with non-combative abilities, so…”
Once again, Dazai had to trust that Chuuya would fill in the blanks on his own, unable to bring himself to actually say the words aloud. For his part, Chuuya did seem to be putting together what Dazai was saying. His eyebrows rose then furrowed, his lips twitched and opened, then closed again.
“You said something about this last night, too, didn’t you?” Chuuya said carefully. “I thought you were joking. Or, like, drunk off your ass or something.”
“I did and I was,” Dazai agreed. “Drunk, I mean. But I’m not now. And I’m not joking, either.”
There was a pause where the only sounds Dazai could hear were Chuuya’s fridge humming and his own heart pounding in his ears.
“I can’t just leave,” Chuuya said finally, sighing. He suddenly looked older, the weight of the life he lived clear in the slump of his shoulders and the crease of his brow. “I’m a wanted man, and even if I wasn’t…I’m not a good man either.”
“But you would want to?” Dazai caught the unspoken opening in his partner’s words. “If you could?”
Chuuya’s expression was pinched and complicated. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, Chuuya,” Dazai urged, driven by a sudden need to make Chuuya understand. “Haven’t you ever wanted more? Wanted different, at least?”
“No,” Chuuya admitted, looking like the words were punched out of him. The weight of them settled heavy for both of them. “That’s not…I don’t think…”
“Well, I do,” Dazai stepped closer, closing the distance between them until there was less than a foot between their bodies. He still felt like all of his limbs were tingling and his tongue was moving without his permission, but it felt like the only option in this situation. “Chuuya. If I can find a place in the light, there is no doubt that someone like you can too. You have always been made of much more light than I have.”
Chuuya’s frown deepened. “That’s not true.”
“It is,” Dazai affirmed, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Please, Chuuya. I want you to come with me. I want you to be my partner again. Maybe all of these are things I should have told you years ago, and I know that, but I’m saying it now. And I mean it now just like I meant it back then.”
The feeling in his chest as he watched Chuuya think his words over was exactly the feeling of plummeting from a cliff into the darkness. He had chosen to dive into the abyss this time and he had no idea if he had made the right decision, but he was already free falling, so there was no use in looking back now.
“I…would like that,” Chuuya admitted, looking extremely miffed to be saying it out loud. “I don’t know really know how it would work, but -”
“Don’t worry about how,” Dazai interrupted. “A lot of people owe me a lot of favors.”
Chuuya blinked. “Favors you’re going to use for…this?”
You’re really, truly serious about this? Was the unspoken question his words asked for him. Is it worth all of that to you? Am I worth all of that to you?
“Well, there’s a price, of course,” Dazai could feel some of his earlier panic fading, replaced by something that felt much closer to elation. It still made him feel just as jittery, tingles sliding up and down his limbs, but it was much more pleasant.
Chuuya caught onto Dazai’s teasing tone and his shoulders also lost some of their tension, raising an eyebrow. “And that is?”
“A kiss.”
“A kiss?”
“Maybe two.”
There was a terrifying pause where Dazai heavily weighed his odds of surviving a jump through Chuuya’s kitchen window down to the ground. Maybe the survival part wasn’t even that important, actually.
He and Chuuya hadn’t kissed since he left the Mafia. Even before he left, most of the kisses he got were stolen. Quick presses of lips after Corruption or while Chuuya was focused on paperwork or during drunk nights at the karaoke bar. Chuuya never said no, but he rarely initiated either. This was Dazai’s way of leveling the playing field (or rather the emotional minefield) that they had been playing on for the eight years or so.
I want you! He had practically shouted to Chuuya in their own hidden language of metaphors and actions. I want you and I’ll do anything to have you!
Now he was asking for just a whisper of the same in return.
Thankfully, the ‘Jumping through the window to almost certain death’ plan never ended up being necessary. Just as Dazai was about to start sprinting, Chuuya stepped closer.
There was a tense beat, then in one swift movement Chuuya yanked Dazai down by his bolo tie and slammed their mouths together. It wasn’t short and sweet like their kisses in the mafia had been. This was rough, deep and claiming.
Chuuya’s message was clear. If you’re going to have me, you’re going to keep me. And I get to keep you, too.
There was a small part of Dazai that still wanted to run from that level of permanence. He had never been able to trust anything in his life to last, especially if he wanted it to.
Still, it felt like a reward and a comfort in itself to feel Chuuya’s lips warm and solid against his own, to press his hands into the curve of Chuuya’s waist and hold on like Chuuya was meant to be his all along.
After a disgustingly long time of just lips on lips and soft breaths, Chuuya pushed Dazai back, face twisted with disgust.
“Go brush your teeth,” he demanded.
“Chibi is so mean, ruining the romantic moment,” Dazai whined, pushing more of his weight onto Chuuya and clinging tighter to his waist so it would be harder for him to get away.
The smaller man groaned and pushed at Dazai’s shoulders, but it was clear he wasn’t putting his full effort into it. “Go brush your teeth and I’ll order food.”
When Dazai still didn’t seem eager to move, Chuuya added. “Then maybe you can get your second kiss.”
Dammit, Chuuya really knew his weaknesses too well. Dazai had never been more eager for personal hygiene, speeding off towards the bathroom with that same tingly giddiness still thrumming in his veins.
The cliff was far behind him now, and he may have hit the ground, or maybe he was still falling. There were a lot of technicalities that would need to be worked out in order for Chuuya to leave the Mafia and join him in the agency. There were a lot of things that they needed to sort out between themselves before they could have anything resembling a regular relationship, and their self destructive tendencies likely wouldn’t help with that. Still, all Dazai had to focus on right now was his second kiss. That was enough.